Nobody gives a shit about your selfies...

My complaints with regards to social media are no surprise. I’ve expressed countless opinions on how it leads to the degradation of our generation through a false sense of self-worth and entitlement. How it’s a jumping off point for gimmick feminism, recycled 90’s fashion, and loads of daddy issues. But lately I’ve been thinking about how it does something else. It creates a platform that equates likes, comments, and story watches to actually giving a shit about people you refer to as friends. I have a problem with constantly lending too much credence to both the situations and the relationships one forges throughout their lifetime. Every once in a while you hear song or you read a book or you meet a person who you are certain you have known in a past life. You connect on a soul level, and there is an understanding that needs no conversation to exist. And in your lifetime you maybe forge five or six of these relationships if you’re lucky.

That’s been a consistent belief of mine, and as a result has led to innumerable disappointments within the human race. You meet these people and you share in amazing experiences and then all of sudden things comes up and life changes and you speak less and less frequently until you barely speak at all. Sharing in adventures stop and lend way to only text message conversations, which eventually fade out and a text message turns into a “like” or a comment or a story watch, and this is what passes for satisfactory. I guess I wonder what everyone else’s memory of those shared experiences became. Did the people you’ve interacted with find the same value in the opportunities? I get it, shit happens, and things move. But that’s not what I’m talking about here. At what point does the rest of the world stop becoming something you take part in only for the sake of convenience and how are some people are able to live with the innate ability to treat others like they are disposable? In less than one year I will stand in front of 125 of my closest family and friends and I will exchange vows with someone, and you can believe that will mean something. When you meet a person and you decide they are worth coexisting with, that in and of itself means something. Relationships and friendships are hard to maintain and impossible to perfect. But when they work, it’s that effort that makes them worth the while. Growing up sucks, but it sucks a lot more if the people you share memories with don’t value them.

On the 22nd every month I get a package in the mail of curated murder mystery that I have to solve. It’s the best gift I have ever received, and the most exciting part of my month without question. So I understand the allure of a monthly subscription box waiting on your doorstep to welcome you home after a long day of having to listen to office humor. This morning, as I was scrolling through Instagram a suggested ad came up for a new monthly subscription company called SingleSwag, a “fun, stylish monthly surprise for amazing single women.” The failure to use the oxford comma comes directly off the copy on their website by the way. Regardless, I couldn’t help but take a look at what they offer, so if you’re wondering what a single woman wants once a month, here's a breakdown of what’s in the box:

“Full sized products hand selected for fun and fabulous single women.”

1. Organic bath and beauty products. 2. Fun, trending fashion accessories. 3. Delicious artisan crafted foods, 4. Exciting surprises just for you.

Here’s the mission statement straight off the site: “at SingleSwag we do not subscribe to any societal or cultural expectations on women. We believe a woman’s happiness is determined by her outlook and attitude and not by her relationship status.”

In the picture of the sample box it looks like it includes a scarf, a bandeau bra, perfume, a book of “skinny girl” cocktails, two nail polishes, a “wine2go” product, a makeup case with the inspirational quote “you’re a gem” printed on it, a bottle opener, some organic snacks, cookies, and some kind of lotion. I’m not sure about what “not subscribing to societal standards” implies, but as per my two degrees in diary writing, I deduce it means not stereotyping single women into the category of ‘basic bitch.’ Yet if you were to add an iMessage icon that says “I can’t tonight I’m staying in to watch Sex and The City” the sample box would literally become the ‘single white woman starter pack’ meme.

Additionally, believing a women’s happiness is not determined by her relationship is expected, who deems that happiness is determined by status? In my personal experience the only fucking people who ever give a shit that they’re single are the single women throwing Galantines day parties and constantly reminding everyone on social media that they DON’T NEED NO MAN BECAUSE PIZZA IS BAE. And we all know those girls are only stomping around so someone will say “OMG YOU GO GIRL!”

When I was a kid I was really into hockey. I’m not sure why, I had no athletic ability, no older brothers, and despite the fact that the first job I ever wanted was to be a professional figure skater, I had never been on skates. As a result of my dad’s complete lack of interest in sports, and no one to share my obsession with, I did what any kid does and lived vicariously through my imagination and the soft blue glow of the television. I watched every movie I could find that had hockey in it. Mighty Ducks, Mystery Alaska, Cool Runnings (okay that’s not about hockey but it is about cold weather sports.) Then it was 1996 and Happy Gilmore came out and pretty much every other movie was irrelevant. I saw it in the movies, rented it from Blockbuster, and eventually bought and wore out my own copy.

My oldest sister is 12 years older than me, and most of my life I spent sharing a bedroom with her in our childhood home. I remember sitting on her mauve pink rug, my long legs crossed in front of me as I got ready to pop my brand new Happy Gilmore VHS in the tape player that sat at the bottom of the wooden stand by the bed. I sat back as the opening credits rolled and listened to the music that washed over the screen. It was guitars, it was piano, it was full thick drums, and it was the most beautiful song I had ever heard. What was it? How come I didn’t notice this when I saw it in the movies? I started to rewind the movie to the beginning over and over so I could listen to it. I watched the movie to the end, and sure enough, when they get back to the house and lift a champagne glass to toast to Chubbs, there it was again, a different part of the song, a more beautiful piano solo. I’d play it through, rewind it, and play it again. Shit this song was good. If this was the music, what would the words sound like? Where there words? How would I find the name? My dad was a library of music, maybe he had heard it? How much you people take for granted the ability to take out a pocket computer and Google away any question you have. I waited. I watched while the white type face names scrolled across the screen, to see all of the songs included in the movie. I wanted to listen to this song until I heard it in my sleep. I waited. Finally I got my answer: "Tuesdays Gone" by Lynyrd Skynyrd. Who the hell was Lynyrd Skynyrd? I'd ask my Dad, he’d definitely know.

Earlier today I was browsing the internet and came upon this article

http://fusion.net/story/364683/white-girls-black-stop-wearing-nameplate-necklaces/

Against my better judgment I am posting a link to it, though I believe the writer deserves no attention whatsoever.

Here is my open letter to her:

Dear Writer,

I personally find this article offensive, and one of the most ignorant and racist pieces of garbage I have had the unfortunate experience of wasting my time reading. I am so sick of this double standard bullshit, it’s absolutely sickening. Its vocalized opinions like these that help spread a cultural divide, a world that sees in colors; I find it embarrassing and a stunt in the growth of our society.

I’ve taken the liberty of highlighting and responding to specific portions of your "article."

Let’s begin…

 "Name plates have always leapt off the chests of black and brown girls who wear them; …a proud proclamation of our own individuality, as well as a salute to those who gave us our names. The necklaces are a response to gas-station bracelets and department store mugs emblazoned with names like Katie and Becky.."

So let me get this straight, only black and brown girls can proclaim their individuality? White girls are all the same? We can’t be proud of our names? Why?? Because our names are "basic"? Sounds like racist rhetoric to me. These names chosen are a reference to what I can only assume you are inferring are typical "white girl names," which, let’s be honest is a racist statement on its own. Let us not overlook what would happen if a white person wrote an article with what they assume to be typical "Black girl" names, it would be an outrage. Guess who never found a gas station bracelet or department store mug with their name on it…me. Do you know why? Because my name is unique, and uniqueness has nothing to do with the color of your skin. Although names can sometimes infer culture, that is not always the case. Are you saying there is not one black or Hispanic female with the names Becky or Katie? That’s a little ignorant, no?

"In New York City where I was raised, the nameplate economy has never involved white people."

Well excuse fuckin’ me. Guess who had nameplate jewelry as a kid in the early 2000’s: myself and all my "white girl friends." Do you know why? Because it would’ve been racist if we looked at it as a "Black Girl Thing, or as the "Ghetto Culture" in which you describe in your excuse for an article. That idea in itself is not only ignorant, it’s maddening.

The choice to wear nameplates is a political one? Let’s poll some people on the streets of New York City to discuss why they choose to purchase a nameplate in Chinatown shall we, I think you’d be shocked by the responses.

"The name plate necklace was always a cultural touchstone of black and brown urban fashion-until Sex and the City…"

I know this might be hard for you to understand, but I’m a white girl who HATES Sex and the City. OMG HOW INSANE RIGHT? I had a name plate before the show existed. I assume at one point, much like the doorknocker earrings I owned, my converse sneakers and my pyramid spike belt, as a pre-teen I saw it on television or on a celebrity and thought it to be aesthetically pleasing so I wanted one. I wasn’t trying to steal a culture at 12, I didn’t associate it with "the hood" or "black and brown people" I associated it with a visually pleasing fashion choice. It’s a fucking name plate, not a bindi. I never looked at it as a sign of lower class, because I don’t think I’m better than anyone else, which you obviously have some issues with. If you’re going to try and paint with the broad brush that white people only buy name plates because of Sex and the City, you better do your fucking research.

"White girls and women have other stories but they don’t have ours. It never seems like homage to me when I see a white woman rocking a nameplate. Instead it comes across as nothing more than an awkward replica-true "biters" of our shit."

This might be some of the most intolerable lines in the entire garbage fire you have passed for an article. Do you think when white people name their children it’s less important than when black people name their children? Do you remember learning about the Holocaust and how those people’s names were taken away and instead they were given number? Do you think every white child receives their name based on whether or not we can find those tiny replica license plates they sell at rest stops along county routes? No one in "white culture" is named after anything of value is essentially what you’re saying. What about the kids who are named after lost relatives, or the kids who ALMOST didn’t happen because of complications that are named after things that represent that struggle? That doesn’t matter right?

Your article disgusts me, you are outrageous, witless, and everything I deem wrong with the society and the divide that is wedging itself amongst our country at this moment. When the fuck did the world become a game of who wore it first? Is it then fair for white people to demand that straight hair is our thing? ABSOLUTELY NOT BECAUSE THAT WOULD BE A RACIST STATEMENT.

"…I just see you wack hos for what it is. It’s a look and a look we did to be outside, and now they realized they are boring so they’re copying."

I stumbled upon this article on Business Insider about the new Yelp NYC office, and how cool it is. When I scrolled to the bottom I found this great comment, thought I'd give it a share

 Here's the original link to the article so you can follow along with the rewrite: 

Seems like Business Insider forgot to mention a few things.

Here's the rewrite :

Hey guys, it seemed like your original piece needed some changes, don't worry, i took the liberty of editing it myself. 

Original title :

“A look inside the New York office of Yelp, a $3 billion company that offers its 4,000 employees around the world some of the most incredible perks.”

New title: 

"Lipstick on a Pig, a look inside the New York office of Yelp, a $3 billion company that offers its 4,000 employees a chance to act like jerk-offs for bean bag chairs and unlimited free cereal.”

“The entire time we were there, loud, upbeat music was playing throughout the office. Reich told us that the playlists tend to be pretty eclectic….”

This headline should be changed to: 

The playlist at Yelp is pretty eclectic; it alternates between The Dave Matthews Band, the sound of your soul slowly leaving your body, and a loop of Charlie Manson convincing you to join the family.

“Reich said music is a major part of the New York office's culture. Case in point — the New York office recently added a karaoke machine. Once in a while, the Yelp team will head out to Koreatown to sing their hearts out at karaoke bars.”

Really means: 

Music is a major part of NY office culture here at Yelp; the subliminal messages help us convince people straight out of college to sell us their souls in exchange for a cool new karaoke machine. Once in a while, the whole team will head to Koreatown to sing their hearts out, if an employee doesn't attend they will be socially ostracized at the office, and everyone will tell them that they must be suffering from depression. 

“The New York office is split across two floors. Each floor has four sales teams. Each team is named after a different area in New York City. For example, the first "neighborhood" we visited was Astoria.”

They do this so you feel right at home, if home feels like a loaded gun is pressed to the back of your head all the time. Why leave the office? YOUR NEIGHBORHOOD IS RIGHT HERE. 

 “As we strolled through Astoria, we heard something unusual: the ringing of a gong. We learned each neighborhood has its own gong, and Yelp salespeople hit it whenever they close a deal.”

Should say:

Whenever sales people close a deal they are forced to hit a gong. Since most of the employees relish in self-aggrandizing glory and desperately seek approval and validation among there peers, this is the peak of life for them. All of the minions gather round to high five them in mediocre celebration. 

“The office features a very open layout. Reich said Yelp doesn't believe in going behind closed doors for most small group meetings, so it offers employees plenty of open spaces where people can sit down and talk.

Really means: 

The office features a very open layout so management can make sure employees are never speaking poorly of their jobs. It allows easier access to pass around sugar free Red Bull when there is a lull in subordination. Also, an open layout allows management to bully employees who are not being aggressive enough to business owners who have been pitched a thousand times before. 

“This is one spot where Yelp employees can find quiet, away from the hubbub and noise of the neighborhoods. "We need to provide space that’s peaceful and serene," Reich said. "This is just a peaceful, safe zone where we don’t play music."

Should say:

There is one spot Yelp employees can find peace, its at a different office, where you mean more to management than the ad packages you sell. 

“One of the wonderful things about running a sales organization is the writing’s on the wall," Reich said. "Everything is so transparent. Everyone can see how everyone is doing.”

Really means: 

When people don't perform to the absurd standards we require, we like to write in on a giant white board so they understand how much better everyone else is then them. Everyone gets to see how your doing, so if you're failing, one of the other 800 employees can come up and show you a Ted Talks video on their IPhone and preach some pointless jibber jabber about how if you close your eyes and picture success you’ll attain it.

“Stepping away from the sales floor, we came across a miniature Stonehenge-esque meeting spot, where small groups of employees can gather together to exchange ideas.”

Should say: 

Employees gather around this mini Stonehenge-esque meeting spot to exchange ideas. Conversations usually include, but is not limited to: being a boss, wearing blazers with jeans, The Wolf of Wall Street, and how much they’ve all achieved since college. 

“Another whimsical feature — an indoor swing — was hanging nearby.”

Try this:

Another whimsical feature-an indoor swing was hanging nearby. It’s useful after a long day of making 437 calls to different people who tell you to go fuck yourself. Other perks include: incredible views (like every other high rise office in Manhattan), a foosball table, a personalized game of corn hole, fully stocked kitchens, and table hockey. Most pre-schools don’t have all the big time toys, but Yelp does. No-one really plays during work hours, because Yelp pushes you to stay after hours and come in before your shift starts, so there will be plenty of time to play indoor games with your family. They keep the kitchen stocked so you don't have to leave for snacks or lunch, and how could you ever realize that day by day your soul is dying when you have a whole wall of free cereal! 

“As Yelp grows, Reich has noticed some differences. However, he said the overall company culture hasn't changed too much. Yelp's core values are still authenticity, honesty, tenacity, being different, and playing well with others, he said.”

Can be edited to say:

Even though we’ve gotten rich enough to have the fanciest day care in the city, the company culture hasn't changed much. Our core values still include: thinking we are better than everyone else, crossing our arms and stomping our feet when we don't get our way, and hurling insults at people when they don't share our view points on how “boss” we are. 

“Since most employees in this office work in sales, the vibe can be stressful at times. “It’s a difficult job, being an evangelist," Reich said. "You’re calling people who often don’t want to talk to you. How do you counter that? With music, with love, with energy, and with support."

Might work better as: 

Since most of the employees in this office work in high pressure sales, they’re often waiting to explode with inner rage. The vibe can be stressful at times. It’s a difficult job, being a jerk off, begging to be accepted by upper management. You’re calling people who have been called everyday for 10 years and often don't want to talk to you. How do you counter that? With management emails containing uplifting GIFS of puppies, a forced sense of happiness and energy, Ted Talks videos about overcoming odds, and no actual sound advice to give employees that are struggling. Oh, and Trap music. 

“Yelp recognizes its stand-out employees in its Hall of Fame, which features customized portraits of those who have exemplified Yelp's core value of tenacity. Portrait themes include "The Big Lebowski" and awkward family photos.”

Means: 

Yelp recognizes its extra douchey employees in its Hall of Fame. For the cost of your self worth and morals, they’ll get an oil portrait of you painted doing something wild and crazy, because they are so fun and different. 

“Our last stop on our tour was the office bar. Yelp employees don't have to go very far for happy hour.The office's "kegerator" bar featured a selection of craft beer. Reich said that people do stop by almost every day after hours.

Should say:

Our last stop on our tour was the office bar. Yelp loves thrusting college and drinking culture forth as a reward for doing your job. People stop by almost every day after hours, because if they don't hang out at work after work, they are told they are not being a team player. 

“Reich noted that while the office has many fun perks, work is always prioritized. "Although we want to have fun, we put the premium on winning and being excellent in our roles," he says. "Winning comes before fun, not fun before winning."

Should say:

My article was originally run on Cenemag.com

Cult leaders and Internet advertising managers have a lot in common: magnetic personalities, a false sense of entitlement, and an uncanny knack of getting people to hang on their every word. Office mentality is often like the mentality of a commune. “We will oppose critical thinking, we will all think the same, we all sleep together, we all kill together.” Not really, but you get it.

For six agonizing months, I worked selling Internet advertising to small business owners. I barely closed four deals. It was for this reason that I assumed it would be no big deal for me to quit. I was working for a review based website selling advertising to local business owners, and after I received my bonus for referring a friend I decided it was time to cash it in. When I grabbed my business casual manager on a Friday afternoon to say I wouldn’t be coming in anymore, I didn’t expect an ambush from the higher-ups at the office. After calling the Director of Sales to join in on the conversation, both women were flummoxed by the news.

“Are you depressed Andi?”

When I said the stress of this job limits my ability to think of anything else, they told me I wasn’t harnessing a work-life balance.

“You need to schedule yourself some time. On Tuesdays, go have drinks. Two days a week, set aside time to write. You need to work on your balance.”

I told them I felt the job made me anxious, that I was always thinking about it. Even if I closed a deal it didn’t matter, because the next month I would have to do it again and it didn’t seem to be getting easier. When addressing concerns with my job tired them, they tried insults.

“Okay so what’s Plan B? You go back to working retail? If you quit this job you will work in retail for the rest of your life.”

At the risk of the company suing me down to my teeth, I won’t use their name; instead, I will call them “Whimper”. Aside from learning an appreciation for all jobs that followed I also learned some important stuff about workplace environment.

1. The sales people who work in Internet advertising are a different breed of asshole.

You’re driving on the highway. A route you’ve driven one thousand times before. You barely pay attention; the car knows where it’s going. Unfortunately, you forget that today you need to get off at a different exit; you have half a mile. The middle lane you are driving in is slightly traffic-y but you throw your blinker on and try to merge right. You attempt to make it over, only for your eyes to meet the eyes of the driver in the exit lane. There is no one in front of his Prius, but he is matching your speed for some unbeknownst reason. You’re boxed in and you miss the exit, only for the Prius to merge over to the left as the sign flies behind you. Prius guy, and his insatiable need to be a self-centered prick, is every person who works for Whimper. The monster I just described has a bumper buddy and he drives with it down all the time. This guy wears a tee-shirt that says “UGH MONDAY AGAIN?.” He chest bumps. He went to college and holds his alma mater strong. He abbreviates in conversation. He refers to himself in the third person. This is your average Whimper employee. I call them, the Scene Stealers. Scene Stealers are bulk of the employees here but there are many layers to the Whimper hierarchy.

Next on the list are “The Beamers.” They have earned this nickname because of the unusual amount of attention they think is warranted simply for doing their job. The Beamers are often heard before they are seen. Usually erupting in a loud catchphrase the second they succeed, something along the lines of “ I AM A BOSS” or “THAT IS HOW YOU GET IT DONE.” They are ostentatious. They embody the Whimper lifestyle. They usually have some kind of deal closing ritual outfit; a cape of fake money, a wig, neon sunglasses. As they glide down the hallway to hit the gong after they close a deal, they take their time, making sure all eyes are on them. They bounce their shoulders to the beat of trap music, and they always hit the gong the hardest.

Then come the Sass Machines. The name comes self-appointed. Sass Machines love to give non-specific advice, and preach of their success. They often lead the HelpU training sessions because it gives them a soapbox upon which to preach. And BOY OH BOY do they LOVE to preach. Sass Machines can be seen sporting Forever 21 business casual fashion as they bounce through the halls and into their respective conference rooms to preach the good word of Silicon Valley.

Then there are the Solo Punishers. Too important to the makeup of the office to leave out, so unique they set their own class of mixed mongoloids. The most important is Fedora guy. Fedora Guy used to sit next to me. His face would fill me with rage. He would always wear black button down shirts, dark pre-ripped jeans, and dress shoes; to remind everyone that he is casual, but also classy. He had a different Fedora for each day of the week. When he talked on the phone, he liked to push his chair out from his desk, place it against the wall, and kneel at the desk in the area where his chair used to be. He had a hands free headset and took it very seriously. He had a photograph of himself on his desk. In the picture he was wearing aforementioned fedora, both hands drawn like guns, aimed at the camera.

The last and final tier to all this are the Manager Beasts. The male Beasts are often bigger, stronger, more efficient deal closing Scene Stealers. The female Beasts are the “something to prove” types. They love plastic statement jewelry. They walk around with a clear feeling of accomplishment. They begin every morning by reciting a power mantra in the bathroom mirror. “I am a strong, powerful woman, with the ability to do great things.” Then they put lipstick on, tuck their dick between their legs and dance like Buffalo Bill in Silence Of The Lambs.

2. They are constantly comparing everything to things they most definitely are not

Frogger to “control the conversation”, “leaving breadcrumbs”, “painting pictures”, slitting your wrists at your work pod so you can bleed out on your Mac keyboard. Whatever. The issue with the constant comparisons is they hope that layer after layer you’ll forget what is actually going on. It’s crazy when you think about it. In any other situation in the world, the inability to accept what’s actually happening makes you socially inept. But at Whimper, the more you use metaphor for your meaningless vapid job, the better.

Picture a douchey dorm college. The kitschy building names, the “unique” eateries, the modern but vintage decor. This is what Whimper is like. They name all the conference rooms after vintage video games (even though the median age of employees is under 30, and the only time they have played “Atari’ was probably ironically in Brooklyn, at some bar you’ve never heard of.) Currently, the office takes up five floors in a building in downtown Manhattan. Sprinkled throughout is a myriad of accouterments to forget the bigger picture, which is that you are a glorified telemarketer. Several kegs of beer on tap on every floor, (for a much needed “way to be a boss beer” after a hard day of trying to choke yourself with the phone cord.) Shuffle board and Foosball tables located by the kitchens they keep fully stocked, (so you never leave not even for lunch,) bean bag chairs, colorful couches, and video game systems, so you can sit on various Sims inspired furniture and cry at the idea that every single day at Whimper feels like there is a loaded gun pressed every so gently to the back of your head.

3. No one has any sound advice on how to better improve your tactics

Essentially, the way the job works is like this: each executive is given a territory to call into across the United States. In your territory you find businesses and spend your day calling them and attempting to set appointments so you can pitch the business model, and sell them advertising space as the recommended business on the Whimper website. Some people get major areas, NY, LA; places that are already familiar with the website. Other people get places in the middle of America. Those people are not really selling Whimper; they are selling the information super highway. When you’re the only auto shop in 49 miles, you don’t really need to advertise. Regardless, each person has a goal, and each team has a larger goal that contributes to office daily numbers, just like any other sales job. There is more that goes into the game plan, but as a result of that gnarly non-disclosure agreement I signed when I started, I’ll have to keep it general.

I tried at this job. I really did. In the beginning, I used to ask for help.

“It’s important that you write your goals on a post it note every morning,” my manager would say. “Its accountability.”

I’m not sure what the dictionary definition of accountability is, but I am certain it has nothing to do with creating an imaginary outcome and trying to will it into fruition.

“You need to use more assumptive language. You’re not being aggressive enough. Are you depressed? It doesn’t seem like you’re thinking positively!”

How aggressive should I have been? Seriously? “Hey Mike this is Andi from Whimper. ADVERTISE WITH US OR YOU’RE A FUCKING IDIOT.”

I couldn’t figure out what I was doing wrong, I felt like I understood the product. I had used Whimper before as a consumer to laugh at angry reviews, and to find businesses, but regardless, I was struggling to sell it. My problem wasn’t with being a telemarketer. It wasn’t with the idea of making calls all day, or working in sales. I felt like some of the questions the business owners had I just couldn’t answer. I needed some tangible feedback I could work on to get better. I couldn’t work with the vague areas, and everything was a vague area. Service areas to determine distance of your ads? Vague. Filtering the reviews? Vague. Algorithms? Extremely vague. I might as well have been trying to sell people rainbows or peace.

4. Being a member of the management team requires no skill set

I am convinced they choose managers by the amount of GIFS they can store on their MacBooks, their ability to find heartwarming YouTube videos, and if they can put a headset on while they do some inane task, like juggle scarves or toss a football to some asshole across the room. Here’s an example of a typical manager email: “It’s that time guys! LWOM! You need to hustle your HARDEST. This week is about being a boss and setting your goals so you can absolutely crush them! I should see a post it note on everyone’s monitor setting realistic goals to help us achieve this! We may have hit target, but we haven’t hit quota, and I wont be happy until we do. Remember there is no try, only do! How about a little incentive for all of you? If you guys hit quota by 3pm today, we all go to happy hour, first two rounds on Whimper! Whaddaya say? I’M FEELIN THIRSTY. Be sure to send some motivation to the team to help do your part! I’ll check in soon! Until then here’s a gif of Puppies rolling on the floor to give you some daily cuteness!” – Sammi

They always include some trivial fact about our numbers/goals/targets, acronyms (LWOM means last week of the month,) at least three verbs that are trendy at college bars, a cliché positivity phrase, excessive usage of capital letters, a treat if we do what were told, and then a fucking GIF. And they are constantly baiting the “Account Executives” to achieve goals with alcohol. “If you make four thousand calls by 1pm, go pour yourself a frosty cold cup of “fuckyourself beer” from our keg downstairs,” If you manage to not jam your thumbs into your eye socket before the week is over, we WILL be hitting happy hour at “JerkoffBar NY,” and don’t worry guys I looked them up on Whimper and there is a DOPE check in offer!” I don’t care about rewards for doing my job. I don’t care about beers with a bunch of assholes. I don’t care about check in offers. For a while, I used to lie and write things like “close a deal,” or “schedule eight appointments,” but I’ve gotten bored of setting false expectations, so now I just write the things I know I can definitely achieve in the day, (petting my cat, smoking a cigarette.)

5. They get really offended if you don’t participate in their lifestyle.

Everyone has that one friend that requires more attention than a puppy. They call constantly. They’re single and get angry that you can’t always drink margaritas on a Tuesday night with them. They call constantly. That’s what Whimper is. The over attached significant other, the needy friend, the poorly house trained puppy. In my very short lived stint in the Whimper penitentiary, I had three different managers, and all had been disappointed by my lack of excitement for team outings and friendship. They don’t just expect your forty hours of work; they want you to understand that working for them means going beyond that. They want you to stay for Friday happy hours, play paintball with your team during the week, come early for breakfast, eat your lunch in the office, and give them your first born. You’re expected at the monthly company parties, with no outside guests. In fact, when I asked if I could bring my boyfriend to the office “prom,” they told me I was supposed to ask my work crush. THANKS BUT NO THANKS MANSON. Oh, and if I watch another Ted fucking Talks episode about the little engine that didn’t know he could, I’ll jump out of the fifth floor window.

When I finally quit, I broke the news to HR. After being told he didn’t know how I could lay my head down at night knowing I got off a rocket ship heading straight for the moon, he tried to have me sign an exit interview contract. The contract basically stated that I would not speak badly about Whimper at all, that I would report all future employers to Whimper, and that I would not mention the contract to anyone. They also let me know if I signed it, they would give me a nice cushy check for two hundred American dollars. Gee Whiz. I’ll try not to spend that all in one place.

This weekend I was at a bar and, by the fourth time I heard a Sugar Ray song, it was obvious the Pandora station was “Hits of the 90’s”. While commenting on trends of the time I was thinking to myself how different pop culture was when I was a kid. How drugs were less prevalent, sex appeal less obvious. I mean this in the simplest of terms. Drugs and sex were still visible, but they showed themselves in a way that was understated. It was easy to miss the references in the Third Eye Blind songs about crystal meth. The drugs were there, but they were less in your face, less glamorized. Hip Hop sometimes covered the idea of smoking weed every day, but not always. They didn’t rap about how cool the excessive use of hard drugs is, or how a party isn’t a party unless you get fucked up, or how they want a trap queen. Everyone knew that the Britney Spears video for “Baby One More Time” was a sexualized vison of Lolita-esque pop, but it was nothing compared to the nude selfies we see on a daily basis now, the takers getting younger and younger by the trend. The sex appeal contained itself to navels, dangly belly button rings, and halter tops; now we deem showing everything but an inside shot of our ovaries sexy, and I wonder what caused that. I guess its natural evolution of pushing the envelope and shock value, but maybe it’s more than that. The guise of technology has caused us to push forward and show more in a desperate validation for likes and reassurance that we are sexy enough, good enough, skinny enough, but nothing anymore is a strive to prove that we are smart enough. In a desperate race for acknowledgement based on physical attributes, we lose sight of everything else and it becomes all that matters. I am curious to where we will go from here. How much farther can we push before everyone’s walking around completely naked all the time, there is no element of surprise and communication is a phrase that simply describes group chats and comments? Will the world just reset and we start modestly again? As I immediately do, I made the connection to technology and social media which made me think about the recent influx of articles I’ve been reading regarding how deeply lonely the generation is. How loneliness is the new epidemic of depression. How removed we all are from society as a result of the constant isolationism people lead themselves into as a result of the dependency on technology. And I wonder if people miss feeling rooted. Can anyone remember what it’s like to wake up and not immediately check their phone? Or to go on a date with someone that you met in person, without stalking them on social media websites for two months. With the ability to constantly see what’s going on with everyone literally in the palm of your hand, it makes you feel more involved, when it’s actually making us lazier. “Look how many people I can connect with from right here on my couch, I’m liking their pictures so they must know I love and care about them right?” This immediacy pushes us further away, or maybe it just makes the bonds less intimate. Whatever it is bums me out. People have forgotten how to have a one on one. Social media approval passes for love, friend requests pass for friendships and I think really, no one is able to process what’s real and what’s fake. Anytime you get sad you just jump on a handheld device and take a selfie and post it to social media and wait for people to validate that you’re great. Once that initial influx of reassurance fades, the sadness sets in again and it’s a never ending cycle until people need so much attention, they become an insecure shell of a human walking around in the world. Maybe we should feel feelings instead of hiding them. Maybe it should make more people sad to see couples out in public, each one holding a phone so that they are physically present but mentally checked out.